Reincarnated as a boss tyrant in the game

Everything is difficult at the beginning, indeed. However, with everyone's concerted efforts, everything is progressing in an orderly manner.

Tosi, leading the 200,000 refugees, embarked on the journey to the northwest with a mighty procession, resembling a winding dragon.

Along the way, dust filled the air, and the sounds of horses' hooves, cartwheels, and people's conversations intertwined, creating a noisy atmosphere that also conveyed anticipation and hope for the future.

Tosi rode his horse at the head of the column, occasionally looking back at the massive crowd behind him. His heart was filled with both a heavy sense of responsibility and a firm belief that he must carve out a stable homeland for everyone on that barren yet promising land in the northwest.

Meanwhile, on the other side, Soren was also leading a team, escorting over a hundred thousand rebel prisoners, slowly advancing towards the imperial capital.

These prisoners were crestfallen, their arrogant arrogance from the days of rebellion gone. Under the close guard of the Royal Guard Cavalry Regiment, they dared not act rashly in the slightest.

Upon arriving at the imperial capital, Soren handed these prisoners over to Yaso for processing.

Yaso was an expert in this field. He had his own unique methods for reorganizing these prisoners, retraining them, and making them useful to the empire.

The key, however, was how many could be 'brainwashed,' allowing them to completely abandon their previous rebellious thoughts and truly pledge allegiance to the empire. That all depended on Yaso's skills.

As for those die-hard loyalists of the border kings, Soren believed that Yaso would naturally know how to properly handle them. After all, when dealing with such stubborn and unyielding people who wholeheartedly followed the rebels, it was necessary to have tough and effective measures, and there could be no leniency to avoid future troubles and further unrest.

As for Yaso, after dealing with the relevant matters of this group of prisoners, he couldn't stop for even a moment. He immediately had to move on to another battlefield.

There, another group of refugees, suffering from the ravages of war, were waiting to be taken in and resettled. They were displaced and urgently needed the empire to lend a helping hand, giving them hope and security to survive.

Lake City, a city always renowned for the sparkling, picturesque lake known as North Lake, had always been a popular resort destination for people from the central provinces in the past.

During holidays, the city was always bustling with tourists flocking from all directions, just to admire the scenery of North Lake and experience its unique tranquility and beauty.

Pavilions and terraces were scattered along the lake, and the streets built along the lake were filled with bustling shops selling various unique souvenirs and delicacies. Laughter echoed throughout the city, showcasing its prosperity and comfort.

However, times have changed, and the current Lake City has completely lost its former peaceful atmosphere.

Inside and outside the city, there were densely packed refugees, totaling more than 400,000. They were raggedly dressed,

with haggard faces and eyes full of fatigue and fear.

The guards of Lake City, out of their duty and consideration for the city's resources and order, had to stand up and form a confrontation with the refugees.

The guards, wearing armor and holding weapons, stood solemnly at the city gate and various key strongholds.

Although their eyes revealed a trace of compassion, their orders were like mountains, and they did not dare to easily let the refugees enter the city.

The refugees gathered outside the city, staring expectantly at the city gate that seemed so close yet so far away.

Their eyes were full of longing and pleading. Some tried to step forward to reason with the guards, hoping to be let in. Others sat on the ground, covering their faces and weeping. The whole scene was chaotic and heartbreaking.

As time slowly passed, the standoff between the refugees and the guards became increasingly tense, like a string stretched to its limit. The slightest disturbance could trigger an uncontrollable conflict, and the situation had reached a dangerous point of imminent explosion.

The refugees, trapped outside the city for a long time, were overwhelmed by hunger, fatigue, and despair, which gradually caused their emotions to spiral out of control.

Children cried loudly from hunger, while adults were filled with sorrow, their eyes revealing an extreme desire for survival and a confused fear of the future.

They began to shout loudly, demanding that the guards open the city gate, let them in to escape the war, and seek a glimmer of hope for survival.

The crowd surged forward, their emotions becoming more and more agitated. Some young and vigorous refugees even picked up stones from the ground and waved them towards the guards, their angry shouts rising and falling, echoing in the sky above Lake City.

The guards were also under tremendous pressure. They gripped the weapons in their hands, vigilantly watching the chaotic crowd in front of them, beads of sweat rolling down their foreheads and dripping onto the ground beneath their feet.

Although they sympathized with the refugees' plight, they knew that they had a responsibility to protect Lake City. Once the city gate was opened and these 400,000 refugees poured in, the city's limited resources would be instantly depleted, and order would completely collapse. At that time, Lake City would fall into endless chaos and disaster.

Therefore, they could only stand their ground, constantly shouting loudly, trying to keep the refugees calm and retreat to a safe distance.

Archers on the city wall had already drawn their bows, their arrows aimed at the restless crowd below, their fingers tightly holding the bowstrings. As long as the commander gave an order, these sharp arrows would rain down on the refugees.

The soldiers behind the city gate were also on full alert, using their bodies to build a solid defense line, preventing the refugees from forcibly breaking through the city gate.

The two sides were in a stalemate. The air was thick with the smell of gunpowder, and every second seemed extremely long.

A brutal conflict seemed inevitable.

In a dimly lit corner outside Lake City, a mysterious figure was quietly hidden. This person was Guta, number four of the Blood Tears Organization.

No one knew when or how he had infiltrated the heavily guarded central provinces of the empire.

He was wearing a black robe, covering his figure and face tightly, revealing only a pair of eyes that shone with cunning and sinister light, quietly observing the tense situation between the refugees and guards inside and outside Lake City.

Guta had just returned to the Super Continent from the outside world, and along the way, he had witnessed the tragic scene of the empire, now filled with smoke and war.

The flames of war had almost burned every inch of the empire's land,

However, in his eyes, all this chaos was not a tragedy worthy of pity, but a rare and golden opportunity.

"Soren, I will let you die here."